


Lay It On Me

by nymphadoraholtzmann



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Fluff, Humour, Language of Flowers, but grassbottom is my new fave, idk where this came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymphadoraholtzmann/pseuds/nymphadoraholtzmann
Summary: The first time she walked into the greenhouse shop Neville thought she looked like she might be trouble. By the time she left, he knew for a fact that she was.Muggle AU - Flower Shop





	Lay It On Me

The first time she walked into the greenhouse shop Neville thought she looked like she might be trouble. By the time she left, he knew for a fact that she was.

 

“I need flowers,” she said, stumbling into the store just after nine in the morning, wearing last night’s dress and heels, mascara streaks running down from her green eyes. Her dark blond hair was piled up in a messy bun on her head and her lipstick was smeared across her cheek. She looked positively deranged. Beautiful, for sure, but completely unstable.

 

“Okay,” Neville said, noting that she was going to be one of  _ those _ customers; the customers who refuse to tell you what they are looking for and expect you to read their minds. It was like pulling teeth some days. “What kind of flowers are you looking for?” Neville asked, picking up his mug of tea and settling in for what he was sure was going to be a much longer interaction than he had hoped for this early on in the work day.

 

“I want to send a message. Flowers, they can mean different things, can’t they?” She walked over to the shop counter and started unloading the contents of her purse onto it: keys, lipstick, gum, another lipstick, a day planner, yet another lipstick, mascara, a small toiletry bag, and finally the wallet she was apparently searching for.

 

“Yeah, there’s a whole language of flowers. It was popularized in Victorian times, actually-” Neville began, excited at the prospect of this situation taking an entirely different turn than he had anticipated.

 

“Great, I need flowers that say “I hope your dick falls off and you get hit by a bus”. Do you have anything like that?” She looked up, meeting Neville’s eyes for the first time since she walked in. He was struck for a moment by how truly pretty she was, aside from the fact that she was clearly completely unhinged.

 

“Er, not  _ exactly _ that sentiment,” Neville said carefully. “Would you settle for simple hatred?”

 

She froze, “Wait, are you actually giving me an answer?”

 

“Yes? Was I not supposed to?” Neville stepped back a little, putting the counter between them in case her rage was being redirected at him. It was times like this he almost wished he had a panic button.

 

“Well, I was mostly coming in here as a venting exercise in which I would attempt to buy flowers that meant something awful, be told that it wasn’t a thing that could be done, and then I could be legitimately mad about something instead of angry about a guy who wasn’t ever even my boyfriend sleeping with someone else,” she said in one breath, attempting to take her hair down and instead causing it to tangle in her elastic.

 

“Basil,” Neville blurted out after a long moment.

“Nice to meet you, Basil. I’m Daphne,” she said, focusing on trying to untangle her hair elastic.

 

“No, my name’s Neville-”

 

“Then why did you say it was Basil? Also kind of weird moment to introduce yourself-”

 

“I meant that basil means hatred. That’s what you want to buy if you want to send that message,” Neville finished exasperated.

 

“That makes more sense,” Daphne said, giving up on her elastic and looking up at him speculatively. He was a lot taller than she had initially realized. His hazel eyes were kind but also a little alarmed. “All right, I’ll take some. In a pot. So he can nurture my hatred.” She flashed a devious smile and Neville raised an eyebrow in response.

 

As Daphne left, pot of basil in hand and certainly much calmer than she was when she arrived, she paused at the door. “Thanks, Neville. I’ll see you around,” she smiled her wicked smile and gave a little wave, letting the door shut with a chime of the bell.

 

Neville took a bracing sip of his now lukewarm tea. She was definitely trouble.

 

 

* * *

 

 

About a week later, Neville heard the door chime at 11 am. It was Sunday morning and he usually didn’t see many customers until the after church crowd getting flowers for family dinners later on. He brushed the soil off his hands and left the fern he was repotting for a moment to see who had come in. Walking into the store front, Daphne was the last person he expected to see.

 

Holding a coffee and wearing sunglasses even though she was indoors, she gave off the distinct vibe of hungover.

 

“Hey Neville, how’s business,” she asked, voice a little husky, and sending what felt like a shockwave through his body.

 

He cleared his throat, shaking off the feeling. “It’s all right, I suppose. How are you?”

 

She smiled, “I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse. A little rough this morning. Did you know that your door chime is exceptionally loud?”

 

Neville chuckled a little, “I have to be able to hear it in the back by the greenhouse, but it’s really not that loud.”

 

“There’s a whole greenhouse back there? Wait, do you grow all of these plants yourself? I thought this was a shop,” Daphne said, walking towards the back of the store towards the greenhouse.

 

“It’s more of a nursery, albeit a smaller one. I’m actually a botanist and I like trying to make new hybrids and hey-” Daphne had kept walking into the back as Neville spoke, ignoring the “employees only” sign entirely.

 

“Wow, and here I thought you were just a bloke who liked plant languages. This is a rather large greenhouse back here, I never would have guessed!” Daphne reached for the door handle as Neville caught up with her.

 

“Well I am a bloke who likes plant languages, but I  _ don’t _ like people just waltzing about the back of my business,” Neville said, irritated. “Don’t-”

 

He was interrupted as the door to the greenhouse opened and the sounds of heavy metal music burst out.

 

Daphne shrieked and dropped her coffee as Neville pushed past her to shut the door.

 

“Why in the ever loving fuck are you playing heavy metal in your greenhouse?” Daphne asked, stooping to scoop up her coffee cup and lid from the floor.

 

“It’s good for the plants. Look it up,” Neville said, lightly grabbing her arm and ushering her back out towards the shop, suppressing laughter. “Now was there something I can help you with or did you just come here to stomp all over a stranger’s personal boundaries?”

 

“Oh Neville, we’re not strangers. You’ve seen me at my lowest point and sold me a plant. We’re bonded for life,” she said, airily. Or as airily as she could considering how hungover she still was and how much she was pretending that Neville’s hand on her arm had no effect on her. “Anyway, I’m looking for a gift for a friend. I need something that sends a message again.”

 

“Okay, what is it,” Neville said, sitting on the stool behind the counter wearily. He glanced at the clock. She had been here for less than five minutes and had already made him feel like he needed a drink.

 

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” she smirked, and Neville pretended that it didn’t make him feel anything. “I need something that says ‘Thank you for holding my hair while I puked in the nightclub bathroom’. But like, classy.”

 

Neville stared at her incredulously for a long, silent, moment before saying, “A dwarf sunflower for gratitude.”

 

“Gratitude sounds WAY classier. I’ll take a bouquet!”

 

Neville shook his head and packed up her order. Later, he would try to forget her wicked smile as he tried to fall asleep.

 

Later, Daphne would try to forget how Neville’s hazel eyes danced with amusement and how strong and capable his hand felt on her arm.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Another week later, Neville heard the door chime at fifteen minutes before he was due to close up the shop. Looking up from his computer where he was doing inventory, he was greeted with the sight of Daphne, clearly headed out for the evening. Her long hair in loose curls, makeup expertly applied, pencil skirt so tight it should be illegal, and a deep green blouse that brought out her eyes.

 

“Hi Neville,” she called out brightly as she approached the counter, feeling deeply satisfied when she saw the tips of his ears turn red as he cleared his throat. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t dressed up a little bit more than she normally would have for this dinner to see how he would react.

 

“Hello Daphne,” he said, shaking his head and looking down at his paperwork for the day. She looked gorgeous, but she was a customer. A strange customer he seemed to be seeing a lot of, but a customer nonetheless. “Off for a big night on the town?”

 

“I have a date, actually,” Daphne said, leaning on the countertop. Neville’s gaze snapped up and he wasn’t entirely sure he was comfortable with how jealous he felt at this knowledge.

 

“Oh. Right. Er, you need flowers?” Neville looked away, not daring to meet her eyes, “Orange roses for passion, maybe?”

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘I’m sure you’re really nice but I don’t want to date you and I knew I didn’t when your cousin set us up’. Hit me with whatever your interpretation of that is,” Daphne said, smiling when she saw his shoulders relax slightly. They were great shoulders, she thought idly.

 

“I have just the thing,” Neville smiled as he got up to head into the back room, and Daphne was struck that this was the first time she had seen a genuine smile from him, not a “customer service” fake smile. He wasn’t just kind of handsome. He was quite handsome. She thought she could get used to seeing that smile.

 

He came back with a bundle of yellow carnations, still smiling as he handed them to her.

 

“What do they mean?” She asked, suddenly a little breathless.

 

“ ‘No’,“ Neville said, laughing.

 

“To the point, I like it,” she said, taking the bundle from him, smiling that wicked smile Neville thought he might never get tired of seeing.

 

She paid and Neville walked her to the door, locking it behind her so he could close up the shop. Later that night he would check his mail on the way out and find a small package containing a CD: Metallica’s Greatest Hits. There was a note inside the jewel case that just said “For the plants - Daph” in elegant handwriting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Neville heard the door chime around lunch time while he was watering the plants. Daphne strolled in, clearly on lunch from wherever she worked.

 

“Thanks for the CD, the plants are loving the change,” Neville said, smiling broadly, setting down his watering can.

 

“I’m just trying to support local business any way I can,” Daphne said lightly, trying not to get flustered and trying not to get caught looking at how well Neville filled out a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt.

 

Neville laughed, and thought he must be imagining Daphne blushing. “How is your day? Are you on lunch?”

 

“Yeah, just thought I would drop by and say hello while I picked up some flowers for a friend,” Daphne said, smiling up at him and hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt like they were.

 

“Ah, and what message are we sending today?” Neville teased lightly, waiting for the ridiculous sentence that was sure to come out of her mouth.

 

“Ready? Okay, ‘I’m sorry your horrid grandmother died and didn’t leave you the pearls you wanted’.”

 

Neville leaned thoughtfully on the counter, brown hair flopping forward into his eyes slightly. “How about marigolds, for grief? A little broad and apparently the grief is over the pearls and not the grandmother, but it could work,” Neville ran a hand through his hair, his shirt lifting slightly.

 

Daphne coughed a little, her mouth suddenly bone dry.

 

“Are you alright? Do you need some water?” Neville asked, concerned.

 

“Fine, fine,” Daphne waved him off with a smile. “Marigolds sound perfect.”

 

As Neville packed her order, Daphne wondered if she should ask him out.

 

As Daphne left the store, Neville wondered if he should forget his rule about not dating customers. This particular customer had been trouble since day one, and he was now in danger of losing his heart to her.

 

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Daphne came by again. 

 

She had to come up with some reason to go in, and while the reason she had come up with was not exactly flower-worthy, she thought it was as good as any. For all her quips about them being bonded for life, she knew they weren’t really friends. She didn’t even know if he was single. Or if he even liked her. She knew he was attracted to her, but that wasn’t really a surprise. She knew what she looked like. But today was the day. Either she was never getting flowers again or she was getting a date.

 

“Hi Neville,” she called, heading into the store with a (very fake) air of casual breeziness. He was busy talking to another customer, smiling politely as she seemed to be asking him very detailed questions about his roses and what temperature and humidity he kept his greenhouse at. He smiled and waved at her quickly as he finished answering the woman’s questions. She seemed satisfied with his knowledge and the quality of his flowers, mentioning something about her husband sending someone to pick the flowers up for some gala or other.

 

Daphne busied herself looking at the different succulents Neville had recently added to the store, growing more anxious by the moment.

 

Neville finished working out the details of the contract with his new clients, trying not to be distracted by Daphne and what he had decided to do that day. He wasn’t sure if she was interested, but he had to try. He had never been the most confident of guys growing up, but it was time to have courage and go for it. He had gone for it with this nursery and it had worked out splendidly, so it was time to apply that tactic to his personal life as well.

 

“Hey Daphne, sorry to keep you waiting,” Neville said as his other customer left, approaching Daphne. He smiled a little shyly as she looked up at him through her lashes and smiled.

 

“No worries. I think I’ve got my best message yet,” Daphne said, “You might want to sit down.”

 

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Neville said, chuckling a little. “Lay it on me.”

 

Daphne tried not to think of the variety of things she would like to lay on him and said, “ ‘Congratulations on the birth of your hamster’s babies even though she ate one of them’.“

Neville laughed harder than Daphne had heard him laugh before and her heart swelled at the sound.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping away tears, “I think you’ll want coral roses for ‘congratulations’ in this particular case.”

 

Daphne was beaming. “Sounds absolutely perfect.”

 

Once Neville was done packing up her order he said “Before you go, I have something for you.”

 

He handed her a potted plant of what seemed to be a strange fern with some almost lily-like blooms.

 

“Thank you, but what is it?” Daphne asked, taking it from him and sniffing the flowers.

 

“The plant is called  _ melianthus  _ or honey flower. But it’s also a message.” Neville said.

 

“Oh? And what is the message?” Daphne raised an eyebrow.

 

“I think it’s time you did a little Victorian Flower Language reading of your own,” Neville said as the door chimed and new customer walked in. “Let me know what you think.”

 

Daphne left the store bewildered and without the date she had hoped for.

 

When she got home, she did the reading he suggested and found the meaning of the message:   _ love, sweet and secret _ . She knew what she had to do.

 

 

* * *

 

Two days later the door chimed and Daphne walked into the store. She strode right up to the counter where Neville was doing some repotting.

 

“Neville, I have a message for you,” she said, reaching into her purse.

 

He had been a nervous wreck for two entire days and had started to fear that Daphne had looked up what the flowers meant and had thought he had come on too strong and had decided to avoid him.

 

Instead, she laid a single garden daisy on the counter.  _ I share your sentiments.  _ Eyes blazing, she walked around the counter and Neville pulled her to him roughly, getting soil on her face and hip as he leaned down to kiss her.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know where this came from but my brain thought "yeah, the world needs this" so here we are. I hope people like it??
> 
> Much love as always to hexmionegranger for her beta reading/screaming and overall terrible influence


End file.
